


Bestow Faith

by SHIBUIKING (Heeshura)



Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-14
Updated: 2020-11-22
Packaged: 2021-03-09 20:40:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27552460
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Heeshura/pseuds/SHIBUIKING
Summary: small (gay) things about my belf guardsman blood knight and arator
Relationships: Arator the Redeemer/Original Character(s)
Comments: 7
Kudos: 12





	1. Chapter 1

“Have you never thought about visiting Silvermoon someday?” Helion’s voice is thoughtful. Quiet in the peaceful hallways of the Sanctum of Light, nestled as they are in a remote corner of the chapel.

Arator huffs a small laugh. “Surely you can understand why I haven’t moved to do so, though it’s true I’d like to see it.”

“If Miss Sanguinar can come and go as she pleases I see no reason why you would be rebuffed. Even I knew of your mother, I doubt her old friends would turn you away.” The light of the chapel filters down beyond them, specs of dust swirling onto the stone floors and emitting warmth they can barely feel from their shaded corner. Helion had cornered Arator here, again, for he spent entirely too much time sitting in solemn contemplation for a man so young and beautiful. Yet again, he’d been brought to wonder why on earth a lowly guard like himself was even allowed in such a breathtaking place, surrounded by breathtaking individuals and persons of note.

“You’d give me the grand tour then?”

“Of course.” Helion’s voice takes on an indignant note. “I should think there’s no finer guide. For years I have stood at doorways on the whims of our esteemed upper class.” He grins. “You wouldn’t believe the things I hear.”

“From rumours I’ve heard, I imagine I would pass out at the mere whisper of such goings on.” On Arator’s face is an impish smile. He’s referring to the commonly believed notion that elves of the high and blood variety are lustful and scandalous of course. Such rumour spreads fast in the human kingdoms, out of hopeful longing, Helion imagines. They want what we have.  
It’s not like he could ever disprove of such talk anyway, not with the things he’s seen.

“I’d very much like to catch you swooning.”

His bold words are rewarded with a terrifyingly endearing giggle. “I’m sure you would. Don’t tease me so.”

“I’m quite serious. About the tour I mean.” He grimaces. “Though I suppose we’ll have to wait for all this demon business to blow over. ...And that means the Horde and Alliance are going to get back to squabbling, which might make it more complicated.”

Arator offers a weak smile, in that gentle and oh-so-calming way of his. Like the Light is being channelled through his person in a shimmering stream into the hearts of those around him. If Helion was taken by some kind of malady that forces him to wax poetic, that is.  
“I’m sure we can find time!”

“I hope so… It must be peculiar to have been raised around humans, only seeing one side of your dual heritage. Though perhaps I am biased.” He shifts in his position in the alcove, betraying his troubled thoughts. “Did I ever tell you about Grand Magister Rommath’s arcane constructs?”

The change of subject is taken with grace. “If you did I don’t remember.”

“Then I definitely didn’t. He has them programmed to refer to him as ‘his high and powerfulness’.” Helion snorts. “You’ve never met the man, have you? He’s a handful. Though they all are in their own way.”

“Is that allowed?” Arator looks scandalised.

“Apparently so! I couldn’t believe it either. And then there’s Halduron, god forbid you forget to bring earplugs on any of his ‘special assignments’. Being posted outside the less reputable bars so the good General can conduct some-” He mimics quotation marks with his hands. “Questioning.”  
He pauses.  
“Though it is true that the talk of his impropriety is somewhat exaggerated.”

The look in Arator’s eyes had softened. “I admire your dedication and loyalty.”

“A job’s a job.”

“That’s not true. You love your home.”

Helion has nothing to say to that.

“I would be very happy for you to share with me the place that you love the most.” The smile on Arator’s face was too knowing, too tender, for him to confront.

—

“Stooooooooooooooop!”

“Whhhhhhhyyyyyyyyyyy.”

“You know why!”

Helion jabs his fingers into Arator’s side again cruelly. “Do I? Hmmm I don’t remember any reason why I should… troubling.” Another jab makes Arator jump almost off the floor. He struggles to contain a snort.

“Can I not get dressed in peace?”

“Nope.”

“You’re insufferable.”

Helion grins lazily. Arator pouts and turns around as he finishes putting his robes over his thin undershirt. His long hair flowing gracefully down his back… or that’s what Helion would normally think if it wasn’t such a lie. His hair is a mess. 

“I would love it if you made a nuisance of yourself elsewhere for a while.”

“Would you?”

Arator sighs, making Helion’s grin widen. He rests his chin on his arms, straddling the only chair in Arator’s small Dalaran room.  
“How do you even get in here so easily without my aunt noticing?”

“I’m good at climbing.”

Another sigh, this one even more long suffering than the last. 

“I bargained with the Highlord.”

“Oh?” Arator moves to sit opposite him on the bed, now dressed and sluggishly dragging a comb through his sleep-mussed hair. He looks so tired that it’s hard not to push him down into the bed and join him for a nap, but Helion was trained better than that. Unfortunately.

“Got the day off.”

He scoffs. “A day off? During a legion invasion?”

“Yep. I won’t force you to take it or anything but uh… wanna do something?”

“Hmmmmmmm. Oh I just don’t know... ” 

The silence following those words makes Helion sweat. Arator places the comb down and starts making a theatrical show of it, obviously aware and relishing in being the one in that position for once. Despite being a city guard by trade, Helion has little patience for such waiting. There really is a difference when it’s your own neck on the line, and not some random noble’s.   
He waits no longer for Arator’s little performance to finish. He slides out of the chair and onto the bed, using his weight to drag down the other elf back onto the duvet with him. May as well indulge in that passing desire.  
“My lord has taken so long to decide that his humble servant has decided to go to sleep.”

“Don’t call yourself that.”

“It’s a joke.”

Arator frowns. “I know, but still.”

“Can’t help having friends in high places, can I?” 

He makes a face like he’s eaten a lemon. Helion laughs quietly and wraps his arms around Arator. If it were anyone else he would’ve moved off of them to let them breathe, but his companion is made of sterner half-human stuff. Surely he can take the weight of a full grown blood elf as well. The still lemony look on his face seems to say otherwise, and that perhaps he’d seen that train of thought, but it’s obviously nothing to be concerned about.   
Helion thinks this as a sharp elbow is rammed into his ribs.

“I say it again but you are insufferable. Incorrigible.”

“I love you.”

The third sigh that morning. “And I you.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if u were wondering what helion looks like then [here](https://shibuiking.tumblr.com/post/635244234995318785) and   
> [here](https://shibuiking.tumblr.com/post/635426197881356288)

Helion lounges on the floor of his apartment. In typical sin’dorei fashion, cushions are littered across the rugs he’d had to buy to cover the cold floors. A small desk lays next to the curtained window, its human origins clashing wildly with the rest of the imported decor. Light struggles to filter in from behind the soft purple drapes.   
His makeup is gone. Not the rarest sight, but coupled with the loose fitting clothing, his bare toes curling as he stretches, and hair untied, it makes for a peaceful view.  
The very image of an elf at rest.

Arator almost feels like an intruder in this sacred place. Ignoring the absolute mess on the floor of course, but it wouldn’t be right without it.  
His eyes roam over his companion’s body once more, really looking this time, and not for the first time he notices the scars. Some small, some big, some shallow, some deep. They criss-cross and meander all over his skin. His bare arms are covered in them to the point where Arator finds himself wondering how it’s all even still held together. His eyebrows furrow.  
He sits down next to Helion and he feels the warmth of a body that has been sunbathing for hours on his lower back. Despite the closed curtains, somehow.

He traces a finger over the light infused tattoo on Helion’s back before speaking.  
“You consider yourself a healer, don’t you.” His voice is soft, unwilling to break the warm shrouded atmosphere.

Helion hums in response. “I might.”

“If it’s not rude… may I ask why you have so many scars?”

“You may.”

A moment passes before Arator catches on. He sighs.  
“Why do you have so many scars? And why do you have to make everything difficult.”

His comment drags a lazy smile onto Helion’s face. “It’s fun.” He turns over, rolling onto his back so he peers up at Arator through heavy lidded eyes.   
“There was a period of time where I don’t think a single elf in Quel’thalas still had faith in the light.”  
Arator has nothing to say to that, his expression dour; so he continues.  
“That and generally I’m not really worrying about myself. A few cuts and scratches here and there won’t kill me.”

“I think this is more than a few ‘cuts and scratches’. It looks like you’ve been mauled.”

“More than a few times.” He clicks his tongue. “Oh don’t get that look on your face, you worry too much about nothing.”  
Arator looks stricken, but still seems to lack the words he wants.  
“What will be, will be.”

“That’s not true.”

Helion humming response sounds lower this time, dismissive. It’s a conversation they’d had already and he cares not to repeat it. 

“Is it really too much to ask for you to take better care of yourself?”

“Yes.”

“I don’t want to see you hurt.”

“It’s going to happen whether you want it to or not.”

“Don’t be like this.” He huffs. The sleepy atmosphere is gone. “It’s hard caring about you sometimes.”

“Then don’t.”

“Don’t say things you don’t mean. I know you feel the same way I do.” Arator pauses. “I hope.”

Helion snorts. “And what way is that?”

“... Differently than friends.”

“Your aunt will kill me, you know.”

“I won’t let her.”

“Ah, my paladin in shining armour, are we?”

“I’ll polish it every morning for you.”

Helion’s face splits into a smile. “How diligent.”

“I’d consider it my most flattering trait. I won’t give up on you.” Arator reaches over and pulls Helion’s head into his lap, running a hand gently through his loose hair.   
“I promise.”

It’s Helion’s turn to be lost for words. He scrunches his face up and pushes his cheek against the hand in his hair. This romance was new to both of them. Not for lack of trying on Arator’s part, but things are ever so complicated with his circumstances. His dual-heritage, the search for his parents, the ever shifting politics of the world. Babysitting his young cousins. Dealing with a vengeful aunt. Thinking about it makes him tired.  
He can only hope his parents do not share the same prejudices.   
Another thought that makes him tired.

As if sensing the road his mind had taken him, Helion wraps his arms around Arator’s waist, burying his face into his stomach. Arator smiles. He places a hand back on Helion’s face, caressing his cheek, scratching gently at the base of his ear, stroking at the light hair spilling onto his shoulder. He leans over and presses a kiss as close to his forehead as he can reach, with Helion’s face still pressed into him it ends up somewhere in his hair.


End file.
